Executive Stress

As the car door slams on the drive, I take a quick last look in the full length mirror on the wardrobe.

My auburn hair is neatly pinned up with just a few tendrils softening and framing my face. A slick of colour burnishes my lips, emphasising their soft fullness, and a hint of lilac adds a faint bruised effect to my eyes, hinting at innocence, and somehow contriving to bring an air of vulnerability to an otherwise scrupulously professional appearance. I twist a little, and smooth my jacket down over my hips, pleased with what I see. The black fabric has a high linen content, and is beautifully cut. It was clearly worth every penny, as it skims my curves, and blends seamlessly with the very short matching skirt, creating an effect of endless length of leg, encased as they are in sheer black stockings, with just a hint of lustre. Very high black court shoes complete the illusion, and enhance my feeling of sexiness.

My stomach lurches and my heart pounds as I hear the door open, and your voice calling for me. On wobbly legs I stroll slowly from the bedroom to the landing, exuding an air of confidence and arrogance that I certainly don't feel! I pose, with my hand on my hip, and my fingers toying with the top button of my blouse. I swallow hard, and call out to you. Your face as you look up and see me is a picture! Your mouth drops open, your keys hit the floor, and I swear I can see the gleam in your eyes even from up here.

Before you can speak I set the scene, informing you that I'm your new PA, and I've been assigned to help relieve you of your excess stress and tension. As I turn on my heel, I toss over my shoulder that I'll be waiting for you in the bathroom. I barely have time to negotiate the few steps needed before I hear you taking the stairs two at a time, and pounding along the hallway.

In the bathroom I've been busy.

The thick blinds are drawn against the world, and tea light candles are floating in the filled bath, amongst scattered bath petals, a clever concoction of scented paper and real rose petals, altogether weaving a fantasy, and creating a soft warm glow, taking us into our own private world of pleasure. A low backed swivel chair is waiting centre stage, and an array of old bottles of oils are on the shelf, looking mysterious and somehow alchemic. Thick fluffy towels are draped across the heated towel rail, plump and warm they await their role.

You bound into the room, and my heart swells with joy as I see the eagerness written on your face. Smiling I slip your jacket from your shoulders, and hang it behind the door. I guide you to the chair, and settle you in it. Standing behind you I begin to rub your shoulders through your shirt. Kneading your muscles I murmur to you how tense you feel, and how much you need to relax, and let me take care of everything.

I grin as you stutter that yes, yes, you ARE tense, and very stiff too...

I sigh, and tell you that I just can't work properly with you dressed like this, and I bend forward over you and grab your shirt front, and with a grimace of effort I rip it apart. Your exclamation, I note, is one of surprised delight, rather than anger, and I follow up by dragging the ruined garment down your arms and casting it aside.

With a bright voice I exclaim how much better that is, and I begin to work your muscles afresh, with renewed vigour. As I oil your back we make small talk, going along with the pretence of this being work related. By the time I'm working on your arms you are becoming too relaxed, clearly appreciating my skilful massage. I note with some disappointment that the bulge in your trousers is becoming less prominent.

It’s time to change tactics.

I spin the chair around to make you face me, and I smile wolfishly down at you as I lift my skirt, and straddle your legs, wiggling myself into a comfy position on your lap. Your eyes grow larger, as does your cock, as I hold up exotically fragranced oil and pour it over my generously proportioned cleavage, before throwing the bottle aside. With a moan I begin rubbing my bared flesh, making it glisten and gleam. As I slide my hands across my breasts I can feel my nipples clamouring for attention, so I turn my attention to them. I slip my hands inside my little lilac blouse, and rub and pinch at the straining nubs of brown and puckered skin. I start to rock on your lap as my clitty bursts into life, and begins throbbing. I feel you reach for my breasts, your strong hands covering my smaller ones through my blouse, directing them to squeeze harder, and with an effort I remember that you aren't supposed to be touching me, not yet anyway. My impending climax dictates a different plan though, and I pull my hands free and allow you to continue playing with me handling my breasts with increasing roughness, making me moan loudly as my rocking increases in pace. To regain some advantage I grind my lips onto yours, and my tongue invades your mouth. I probe and lick at you as I rub myself against your rock hard bulge. My knickers grow wetter with my juices and my hips blur as I press my aching cunt hard against you, and then I'm biting your lips as I come, and the strange whistling noise I can hear is me screaming my bliss into your mouth.

As I calm down a little, I push against your chest and sit myself upright again, wiggling uncomfortably as tremors still ripple through my pussy, and I can feel my juices flowing freely. I stroke your chest and shoulders for a few moments, and push your hands back down to your side. Then with an effort I stand up, and step backwards, smiling at you all the while. I shrug my jacket from my shoulders, and lean down to kiss you again. As your tongue dances with mine I reach down and unzip your trousers. You gasp into my mouth and I suck hard at your tongue, teasing you with the knowledge of what's now to come. I leave your lips and begin to trail wet kisses down your body, lingering on your nipples and nipping at them, causing you to jump and growl low under your breath.

Slowly, slowly I go lower.

And then I'm kneeling in front of you. I look at you from under lowered lashes, the image of the immaculate business woman, the face, the suit, the hair… And then the image is violently contrasted as I wrench your trousers fully open and carry on with the destruction of property as I grasp the flaps on your silky boxer shorts and with a sharp rip they tear easily apart, allowing my beautifully manicured hand to reach in and grip your swollen cock. With barely any encouragement from me it springs free, angry and purple around the head it bobs there, velvety soft skin over hot steel, pulsing with need of its own.

Still watching your face I open my mouth, my wet, warm mouth, and reach out my tongue to caress the bare skin around the head. With the barest whisper of a touch I lick the shiny flesh, moistening it, and I see you clench your jaw and tense yourself.

You are close to exploding, and I wonder how much self control you have as I continue to flutter my tongue around the end of your pulsing cock, lapping at it and stroking it. Changing tack a little I close my softly painted lips around the end, still teasing the tip with my darting tongue, and I draw your member deep into my willing mouth. My tongue cups itself along your throbbing vein now, as I suck my cheeks in, making a cunt of my mouth, expressly for you to fuck. The hot moistness grips your length, and the pressure of my sucking milks your cock with a persistence that won't be denied.

I lace my fingers through yours, keeping you from burying your hands in my hair and forcing my head down onto you, as I know you want to.

You stare into my eyes, as your bulging cock forces itself between my red lips, and sweat breaks out on your forehead. I can see you grinding your teeth, and I know you are trying not to thrust, trying desperately to hold back from shooting your load down my open throat. But it’s clear your control is waning.

"Mmmmm" I sigh and I begin to pump my mouth up and down your shaft, sucking hard and making obscene slurping noises. I feel you tense, and I go faster, raking my teeth lightly down the iron of your great length, taking it all as far as I can, till I feel my chin hit your balls and your cock head nudge the back of my throat. As I feel you begin to thrust in response to my oral worship of your cock, I let go of your hands, and my last view is of your face, lips drawn back in a snarl as your balls boil over, and you start to empty yourself into my mouth. Then you are pushing my face down harder onto your jerking cock, fucking my throat with blinding speed as you spend into me, forcing me to swallow your thick, hot cum as it gushes from you. What feels like gallons of your spunk slides down my throat, and the overspill fills my mouth, some trickling out around your fat cock. You shudder, and your thrusts slow, and gradually I manage to swallow down all your seed, and start to clean your shaft. Slowly and lovingly I suck and lap at it, marvelling at how hard it stays, even now.

Finally with aching jaw and smudged lipstick I sit back on my heels and look at you. Your tension is quite clearly relieved as you're smiling broadly, and leaning carefully back on the little chair. I climb slowly to my feet, patting at my hair, and straightening my crumpled and greasy blouse.

"Now Sir, when you're ready, I'll attend to your shower" I say, in a brave attempt to restore the work etiquette. I smile to myself at your look of wonderment, and I turn my attention to starting the shower, and adjusting the water to the desired temperature......

As the water cascades to the floor, I hear you removing your clothes, and my heart quickens as it always does at the thought of stroking your bared skin. I keep my eyes fixed on the shower dial though, and soon you’re safely ensconced, wrapped in a torrent of blissfully hot foamy water.

I lick my lips and run my fingers through my hair, lifting it free of my itching scalp, pulling the clips out and letting it fall back loose around my face. I rake it again with my fingers, enjoying the feel of it as it tumbles and swings around my glowing cheeks. My blouse is sticking to me, a slippery mixture of oil and sweat, outlining my breasts in gentle relief, lilac mounds with darker violet peaks, filling the fabric of my blouse to its limits and putting an unfair strain on the tiny mother of pearl buttons doing their best to contain the ample flesh within. I shiver a little as I remember anointing my breasts with the oil and my nipples stiffen, becoming hard pebbles clearly visible through the filmy translucence of my blouse and bra. I feel my own lubricant beginning to flow, moistening the hot and ticklish valley between my thighs. I need that valley explored, thoroughly and deeply. I ache suddenly to feel you opening me up, and claiming me with your rigid flag of flesh. I need you to be inside me, I can think of nothing else. With a flash of impatience I open the shower door, and am inside before I can think clearly. My first thought after that is relief that we chose a large cubicle shower, rather than opting for a bolt on over the bath type. My heels would no doubt have left me with a sprained ankle in the slippery bath; at least here I can walk in relative safety, as long as I am careful. The heat of the water dissipates slightly before reaching me, chilling me as it soaks into my clothes and rapidly cools. The force from the powerful jets still has the power to sting my skin, even through my oily clothes. I see your back, muscles moving sleekly beneath your glisteningly wet skin, and I step forward, reaching around you to take hold of the sponge in your hand. You jump as my arm snakes under yours, making me giggle, and then you have me by the wrist and are spinning round to face me. I smile at you through the steam, then purposefully open my mouth and close my eyes, and allow the myriad of water droplets to splash onto my upturned face. I lick my lips, and swallow slowly, an exaggerated movement, the sole purpose of which is to tease you, and remind you of the parallel with my earlier mouth music. I open my eyes and sigh, and again run my fingers through my hair, the age old flirtation rendered no less potent by its years of usage. I lift the wet locks, and twirl them, head to one side, provocation written plainly across my face.

“Shall I wash your back now Sir? “ I query, eyebrows raised nearly as high as my libido.

You say nothing for some moments, just stand there watching as the water soaks further into all my clothes. They are beginning to be uncomfortable, the skirt heavy with the water permeating its fibres, the blouse clinging and restrictive. I fidget, suddenly cold in spite of the hot water. You smile then, and say that I need to be properly attired first, and that I must remove my skirt and blouse, then I may proceed. My heart leaps and my stomach turns over with excitement as you suddenly become the one in command. The buttons are difficult, slippery and pulled tight in their holes, and you snap at me to be quick, efficiency is what is required. I struggle to hurry, pulling at them and snapping some free in my haste. I shrug the blouse down over my shoulders, but before I can pull my arms free you swiftly pin me against the tiled wall. I struggle to balance on my high heels without the use of my arms to help me, trying to keep my bared skin free of the cold ceramics. Where it touches me I jump, chilled and thrilled simultaneously. Your face is close now, your eyes looking deep into mine, and one of your hands is slowly caressing my breasts, lazily going from one to the other, kneading, squeezing, drawing moans from me and bringing a fresh flood of moisture to my already sodden panties. The other hand cups my chin, and your forefinger traces the outline of my pouting lips, lingering on the bottom one, and tugging it down. My tongue darts out, circling it, and you push your finger between my painted lips. I suck it hard, drawing it deep into my mouth, cushioning it on my tongue. I set the rhythm, sucking strongly and quickly, and you tell me how much you like a secretary who can suck well. You add another finger, and I lick it, running my tongue along its length with confidence, and then returning to the hard sucking that you love so much.

Your other hand becomes rougher, pulling at my already engorged nipples, causing me to gasp and moan as I suck your fingers. This is such a turn on! I feel my pussy throbbing, and my legs feel weak as you continue to finger fuck my sluttish mouth. I slurp and swallow for all the world as if it were your cock forcing my lips wide. You step back from me pulling the fingers from my mouth and I see the lust in your eyes as you take in the sight before you. Wild hair, swollen lips with the colour running, breasts heaving and nipples turgid, the lacy covering all but invisible. What a whore I must look! I finally pull my arms free of the restrictive blouse, and the skirt swiftly follows. The weight of the water pulls it over my hips with the bare minimum of assistance from me. You tell me to remove my shoes and they too are kicked aside. I stand, suddenly very much smaller than you, clad only in saturated bra and panties, with the merest whisper of black lace and nylon covering my legs.

I tremble, but with lust rather than cold.

You hand me the sponge and the shower gel, and instruct me to wash you. I begin with your back, gliding the rough side of the massage sponge across your shoulder blades, soaping you up, and then switching to the smooth side to rinse the suds away. And so on it goes, arms, chest, stomach… I glance up at you and you nod, so I sink to my knees and continue washing your buttocks, legs, feet… and finally your cock and balls.

You take the sponge from me and tell me I must use my hands only. Of course I comply. I lather my hands and gently cup your balls. With gentle fingers I soap and stroke the heavy sac, rolling the balls within oh - so tenderly. I pull on them slightly, then take their weight in my cupped hand and run one hand up the sensitive strip of skin between your ass and your balls. I can tell by your thrusting hips that you are enjoying this, so I go further than I ever would dare normally. I stroke the tip of one finger around your asshole, rubbing it, forcing moisture rich lather into it. You grunt, and push back against my questing finger tip. Dare I? You seem to want it, so slowly I push harder, and I feel your muscles relax and open under the insistent pressure of my fingertip. Another little push and it’s in. I hardly dare breathe. We are both still for a second or two, then your voice orders me to carry on. I probe a little further, and then pull back, only to venture immediately further back in. My free hand trails back up and circles your cock, slathering its length in hot suds. I squeeze and stroke, working my way up the head, then a hard squeeze and I start back down again. I have you trapped between my hands now, one finger buried inside you, probing and pressing, and the other hand controlling your cock, teasing and stroking it to near orgasm, then a swift pinch around the head sending you shuddering back down again.

My little game is brought to an end when you grab a handful of my hair and pull me roughly to my feet. My bra is wrenched from me, and I’m back against the wall.

“My turn to wash you!” you snarl.

The coarse rope on the sponge drags at my rubbery nipples and I cry out and try to push you away. I hadn’t expected this. A swift couple of slaps knocks my hands aside and with a whimper of submission I stand quietly. You rub my tender breast gently all over with the scrubber, drawing gooseflesh to my arms and then you begin to work on the nipple again With firm strokes you brush the white flesh in a long sweep, culminating in the ultra sensitive puckered brown skin of my nipple. The white mound grows rosy red, and tears trickle down my face, but there is also an increasing eagerness in my hot little cunt. It is rough, but exciting. It is painful, but - exciting… I drop one hand, hoping to be unseen, to my crotch, and begin to finger myself. My clitty stands out even through my panties, my pussy lips gaping wide around it to allow me easy access. I rub it frantically, bucking my hips, no longer thinking about anything except the need to come.

“That’s it, “ you hiss in my ear, nipping the lobe as your hot breath startles me and makes me jump, “play with your pussy, you little whore, make yourself come while I fondle your tits.”

Your mouth drops to my abused breast, sucking and lapping at the teat, making the sensitised flesh sting as your saliva bathes it. The cruel sponge starts on the other, grating and rubbing the delicate skin. My fingers rub harder, and I sob as I feel my climax building. I throw one arm over your shoulder and rub my cunt frantically with the other. Your hand covers mine, pressing my knickers into me, forcing me to rub harder than I would myself. I am lost now, and my legs buckle as I start to come, my body jack -knifing against you and my screams being muffled as I press my face into your chest. I’ve never had an orgasm this intense before, and I’m not sure I can stop. I feel liquid running from my cunt, and I don’t know if I’m wetting myself or just coming hard. I can’t move, I can barely breathe and still your hand on mine is forcing me on, dragging the crotch of my knickers across my exploding clitty.

I stagger and then I’m on my hands and knees, the water still beating down on me, and I can breathe again.

I kneel there on all fours, panting for breath, and all the time my pussy is twitching with a life of its own. As I kneel there I feel you drop down behind me, and my sodden undies are pulled down to my knees. Too exhausted to protest I lift my legs one at a time as you slide them free.